


regrets collect like old friends

by SiderumInCaelo



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Good Albus Dumbledore, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Missing Scene, Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, background canon relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 20:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20880245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiderumInCaelo/pseuds/SiderumInCaelo
Summary: "He'll have some milk.  Hide the teaspoons."Albus has tea with his old student (and his Niffler), and the conversation inevitably turns towards Paris and Grindelwald.





	regrets collect like old friends

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the [Albus Dumbledore Positivity Week](https://dumbledore-positivity.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Many thanks to that event for a) spreading some nice Dumbledore content and b) giving me the incentive to finally finish this fic.
> 
> The title is, of course, taken from "Shake It Out" by Florence + The Machine.

“Is Earl Grey all right?” Albus asked after he set a pot of water to boil with a tap of his wand. He had more exotic blends available, but Earl Grey was predictable, reassuring. Given the recent events in Paris – even the abridged version in the Ministry report – Albus took whatever comfort he could find at the moment.

“Of course,” Newt said, so Albus submerged a bag into the teapot, then laid out the rest of the tray – two cups with matching saucers, two teaspoons, a small jug of milk, a bowl of sugar, and assorted biscuits. Once it was all assembled, Albus carried it over to the table where Newt was seated. 

Newt poured his tea and added milk and sugar to it, then poured more of the milk into his saucer, and placed in front of the Niffler, who cheerfully lapped at it. “That should keep him occupied for a few minutes, at least,” he said.

“I’m sorry I asked you to go to Paris,” Albus said, unable to avoid the apology any longer. “I had hoped that you wouldn’t encounter Grindelwald, but… well, I knew what I was asking was dangerous.”

“If it helps, I went to Paris as much because Tina was there as because of what you said,” Newt responded, a small smile playing across his face.

Albus quirked an eyebrow at that. “You and Miss Goldstein, hm?” he asked, glad for a moment of levity.

“Maybe,” Newt said, his cheeks pinking slightly. “It’s early days.

“Anyway,” he said, with the air of one trying to change the subject, “you were right that Credence needed to be found. Not that I managed to help him.” He sighed. “You said before that Credence was either in danger or a danger to others. Do you think –”

“That we should now only worry about the latter? I don’t know,” Albus admitted. “I admit that I’m frightened by the prospect of an Obscurial under the control of Grindelwald, but being controlled by Grindelwald is hardly a safe position, either.”

“I want to believe that Credence doesn’t want to hurt people,” Newt said, “that he’ll realize what Grindelwald is and leave… but then, Leta did tell me I never met a monster I couldn’t love,” he finished, the bitterness in his tone clear.

“Your ability to see and understand what others do not is one of your best qualities,” Albus said. “But it is cruel when we care for those who do not deserve it,” he added, softer.

“Are you speaking from experience?” Newt asked, and the old panic that someone had found out his most shameful and best-kept secret flared in his chest. “Theseus mentioned that you and Grindelwald were… close, when you were younger,” Newt continued, and Albus got the distinct impression that he was using the same tone he would on a cornered animal. “And it would explain the blood pact.”

In the face of that evidence, Albus could hardly deny it. And hadn’t he himself told Leta (only a few short days before, and oh, there’s another regret for the pile) that _confession is a relief, a great weight lifted_? Perhaps he ought to take his own advice for once, he thought. 

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, not meeting Newt’s eyes. “I fear I understand more than most why Credence would join him.” 

“I’m sorry,” Newt responded, surprising Albus with the apology. “Perhaps your own past will give you insight on how best to draw Credence away from Grindelwald?” he suggested.

“It took –” Albus’s voice shook, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to end this conversation and go back to tending his guilt alone, but Newt deserved the truth, after what Albus had asked him to do and may ask him to do in the future. “It took my sister dying for me to see what he was. I hope for all our sakes that Credence will be less blind.”

“I wish we knew to what extent Credence believes in Grindelwald’s ideology,” Newt mused. “Nagini said that Grindelwald claimed to have information about Credence’s real family, and that’s why he joined him, but given the abuse he endured at the hands of his adoptive mother, it’s easy to imagine him embracing anti-Muggle bigotry.” 

As Albus contemplated the myriad ways both the magical and muggle governments had failed Credence, the Niffler started nosing around the table in search of something shiny, having finished its milk. Its attention fell on the tea tray, which caught the light coming in through the window, and the Niffler tried to drag the whole thing towards him, uncaring that it was clearly too large to fit in his pouch.

Newt reached out and pulled him away. “Greedy little thing,” he reprimanded fondly. When the Niffler continued to wiggle and reach for the tray, Newt sighed and held out his teaspoon. The Niffler immediately grabbed it and enthusiastically shoved it in his pouch, evidently mollified.

“He’ll probably give it back later,” Newt said sheepishly.

Albus waved away the concern about the spoon. “How are the others coping?” he asked.

“Tina and Jacob are – well, how you’d expect, I guess. Sad and angry and confused. Jacob may not be familiar with the finer points of anti-Muggle bias or blood purity, but he was at Grindelwald’s rally, and smart enough to see past the ‘we don’t hate Muggles, this is for the greater good’ rhetoric” – Albus tried not to flinch at that, even as the guilt twisted in him – “so he’s feeling pretty betrayed. I think Tina feels guilty for not seeing any warning signs, both as a sister and an Auror.”

He paused.

“And Theseus… he just seems empty.”

“And you?” Albus probed gently.

“I don’t know,” said Newt. “It had been years since I last saw Leta, but somehow that just makes it worse, because now we’ll never get to make up for that. And what she told us, right before she –” he broke off, shaking his head a bit as if to derail that line of thought – “about the ship voyage and her brother – I feel like I wasn’t a very good friend when we were younger. It must have been an awful thing to carry around by herself for so long.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Albus pointed out.

“I know,” Newt acknowledged. “But still.” 

Albus understood the regret of missed opportunities all too well. “I wish I had helped, too,” he said. “I was her teacher for seven years, and I saw her when Theseus and Travers visited. We even discussed the rumours about her brother, but – well, I don’t think what I said helped very much, and I should have been able to do better.”

Newt was quiet for a while then, absently fiddling with his teacup as he thought. “You said, before, that it took your sister dying for you to leave Grindelwald, and now, that you ‘should’ have been able to help Leta… were your circumstances similar?” 

“I was far more culpable in my sibling’s death,” Albus said, “than Leta was in hers.” He should have said more, told the whole awful story, but he couldn’t. He stared intently at the tabletop, and willed his eyes not to water.

“What I said earlier,” Newt began softly, “when we were talking about Leta, about it being an awful thing to carry around alone – that applies to you too. I’m very sorry.”

“Thank you,” Albus said, throat so tight it was barely a whisper.

Newt didn’t say anything for a while, letting them sit in silence, and Albus was grateful for the opportunity to compose himself.

Newt retrieved the Niffler – who had made his way underneath the table – and coaxed the teaspoon back from him, then tucked him into his coat. “The others are probably waiting for us,” he said, standing.

Albus nodded. “Tell Travers I’ll be with him shortly?” he asked.

“Of course,” Newt answered easily. “Goodbye, Dumbledore, if I don’t see you before we leave.”

He paused at the door and turned around. “If you need help with anything, or even just want a listening ear, do send me an owl.”

He walked out, closing the door behind him, and Albus was left with his thoughts. He pulled the blood troth out of his pocket and passed it between his fingers, letting the loneliness and self-loathing wash over him. He idly considered various approaches to destroying it, and ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach the thought provoked.

Then abruptly he stood, shoving the pendant back into his pocket, and wiped away the dampness gathered at his eyes. He had things to do, after all.


End file.
